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How an embattled energy storage project in Acton, California, is threatening faster federal permits.

One hour north of Los Angeles, the small town of Acton is experiencing a battery energy storage buildout — and quickly becoming the must-watch frontline in the backlash against lithium-ion energy storage systems. The flashpoint: wildfires.
Like many parts of California, Acton has hot summers with heavy winds, putting it at elevated risk of the kind blaze that makes national headlines. Battery storage fires, while rare, are a unique threat, with relatively little data available about them to help regulators or the public understand the risk. People in Acton wondered: Would they really be safe if a wildfire engulfed a battery storage site, or if a battery failure sparked a new conflagration?
When L.A. County blessed the first battery energy storage system project in Acton last year, developers and local fire officials said they were doing everything in their power to ensure the batteries would meet safety standards. Residents were far from convinced.
“This will turn our community into industrial hell and it’ll erase us from the face of the Earth,” Jacqueline Ayer, a member of Acton’s town council, told me. Ayer is helping lead the local fight against the projects.
I’ve now spent more than a month researching the fight in Acton. In the process, I’ve learned how much — or little — we know about when battery energy storage and wildfires mix. We’ll get to that later in this story. To be honest, debunking battery fire risk wasn’t why I spent a month on Acton. It was what happened when the fears took hold.
Feeling they’d been failed by both the regulatory approval process and the court system, the Acton project’s opponents turned to their representative in Washington, House Republican Mike Garcia. Though Garcia can’t do anything to stop this particular project, he can severely hinder future ones: As Heatmap can exclusively report, after lobbying from Acton, Garcia inserted language into the annual funding bill for the Department of Energy that would block it from implementing a new rule designed to expedite permits for federally funded battery projects.
“What we’re hoping is that [with Garcia] being at the federal level, he’ll shed some light to the people at the top,” said Ruthie Brock of the activist group Acton Takes Action, “because if the top becomes informed, it’ll trickle down to local governments.”
This is why the Acton fight is so important — it demonstrates the risk of failing to obtain community buy-in, which can ricochet in ways no one intended. The political and media environments are quick to sensationalize the downsides of renewable energy, creating a tinderbox atmosphere in which small local fights can quickly become national ones.
On some level, a fight over battery fires going national was inevitable. Across the country, from New York to Washington state, communities are revolting against battery energy storage sites coming to their backyards. Often, those opposed cite the feared threat of fires or explosions.
Fires in battery energy storage systems, a.k.a. BESS, are quite rare. According to what data is available, the number of fires has stayed relatively flat even as deployment has grown drastically. There were fewer than 10 failure events in the U.S. in 2023, and there have been even fewer so far this year.
But when a fire does happen, experts say it can be quite difficult to put out. In some cases, there’s nothing a community can do other than let the blaze run.
“There’s a lack of consensus. There’s a lot of experts out there providing guidance, and that’s something we’re trying to work on with training throughout the country,” Victoria Hutchinson, an engineer with the Fire Protection Research Foundation, told me. “[It’ll] instill some fear in the meantime we figure out the best approach.”
Information on BESS and wildfires is even less available. Guillermo Rein, a professor of fire science and the editor-in-chief of the journal Fire Technology, told me the matter has not really been studied.
“When I say [BESS are] new, I mean really new,” Rein said. “We hardly know how it works when it gets [on] fire and we don’t have many technologies that are proven to work. We have technologies that we wish will work, but proven technologies that work are very rare. That means we have a new hazard we are struggling to understand and in the meantime, we don’t know how to protect against it.”
Los Angeles County approved Acton’s first battery storage system — Humidor, a 300 megawatt project by Hecate Energy — last summer through an expedited “ministerial” process, the local equivalent of a “categorical exclusion” under the National Environmental Policy Act. Ministerial reviews and categorical exclusions are used by regulators to skip the drawn out process of an environmental review because they can reasonably predict a lack of significant impact. Joseph Horvath, a spokesperson for L.A. County Planning, gave me a statement defending the approval and stating BESS projects must meet all local and state zoning and fire codes to receive a ministerial approval.
California had identified the Acton community back in 2021 as a potential site for energy storage to protect against future power shut offs. Acton made sense because it’s close to the SoCal Edison Vincent substation, making it well positioned to connect to the grid. There was also a real sense of urgency: To achieve its goal of 100% carbon-free electricity by 2045, the state estimates it will need to install a projected 52,000 megawatts or more of battery storage. Humidor is the first of what appears to be multiple projects being planned for the area, including two more Hecate facilities according to materials on the company’s website.
Convinced that a battery boom could mix poorly with extreme fire risk, and that the county moved far too fast to approve Humidor, Acton residents sued. The county, they argued, had little reason to conclude the facility would have an insignificant impact on the environment — so few BESS projects have been approved that the county used the standards from a different kind of project — an electrical substation — to draw that conclusion. L.A. County Planning told me they chose this comparison for reasons including the “purpose of BESS and its connection to the larger network for distributive purposes.”
Rein told me that at least when it comes to the fire risk, this isn’t an accurate comparison, and that there’s not actually enough data to claim such a facility would have an insignificant impact. “I would put great efforts into making sure this facility is safe,” he said. “They can’t just say, I met the regulation, I did enough. Because it’s a new hazard.”
Many of those in Acton opposed to the project believe the approval was rushed, and claim that little information was made available to the public as it was going through the county’s process. Furious residents have told county planners that the Acton town council was not notified in advance that an approval was on its way. They testified before the county board of supervisors that Hecate held only a single public meeting to discuss what it intended to build, with little notice given to potentially concerned citizens.
In my experience as a journalist reporting on large energy projects with serious community impacts, transparency is key to getting local buy-in to build a project. For years I covered the mining industry, where innumerable decades of toxic waste spills and labor scandals have forced companies to really innovate and spend serious dough on obtaining “social license to operate,” a term developers and investors use to describe acceptance to a company’s business practices.
This, of course, differs from the YIMBY school of thought that companies and governments should eschew frustrated municipalities to pursue the overriding net good of climate action. There are certainly merits to this argument, especially when it comes to communities that won’t take yes for an answer, and we’ll be exploring case studies supporting that view in future editions of The Fight.
I’m on the fence about whether Acton is one of those cases, though. Ayer, an environmental engineer by trade, told me she supports decarbonization and wants to see climate action happen. She just wants to feel assured the technology is safe.
If it wasn’t a lithium-ion battery storage facility “I would feel comfortable,” she said. “We will shoulder some of the weight. But it isn’t right that we shoulder all of the weight.”
When I tried to talk to Hecate about Acton’s wildfire concerns and how the company had engaged with the community, a company spokesperson, Bobby Howard, declined to make anyone available for an interview citing “ongoing litigation related to the subject.” Howard provided a factbook that said only that Humidor would “meet or exceed” local and state fire codes — without specifying which codes — and detailed some of the outreach the company did, including the public meeting as well as mailers to “thousands of individuals throughout the greater Los Angeles area, including civically engaged individuals throughout Acton.”
Howard declined to answer questions requesting more information about the company’s public outreach and wildfire planning. He did tell the Los Angeles Times earlier this year that Humidor would have “seismic bracing, safety zones around the perimeter, substantial setbacks from parcel boundaries, gravel breaks and a masonry wall around the facility.”
Stanford University senior research scholar and legal energy expert Michael Wara explained to me that in cases like these, having buy-in from the community is important to avoiding litigation and social blowback. “That is losing,” Wara said. “You have not served your client if you end up in litigation.”
“Having a process by which people are informed about a project and have an opportunity to provide input is important for buy-in for all kinds of projects related to the energy transition if you want to build in a democratic society,” he said. “Is it really the fire risk the community is concerned about?”
When it comes to the Acton battery fight, it’s the fears of fire that scare me the most, not the fire itself.
I sought reasons to be optimistic about putting battery energy storage in areas like Acton that are prone to wildfire because, well, California is essentially one big fire risk zone. James Campbell, a wildfire policy expert at the Federation of American Scientists, told me that battery energy storage decreases net wildfire risk compared to gas storage tanks and pipelines. “If we consider the whole-climate trade-offs, battery systems are much safer,” he said.
On its end, Hecate claimed in a letter to the L.A. County Board of Supervisors that a BESS fire has never traveled off-site, and that because the fires are fueled by flammable gasses, there is minimal risk of embers traveling elsewhere and igniting grass or bushes. The company pointed me to this letter when I reached out for comment.
“Nothing about fire risk mitigation is about certainty. It’s more, risk mitigation and fire is kind of like wearing a seatbelt,” Wara told me. “If you’re going 120 miles an hour down the highway and you get in a high-speed collision, your seatbelt will not save you. [But] there’s rapid advances in how these systems work.”
In the end, he added, meeting California’s carbon emissions targets will “probably mean building somewhere that there is non-trivial wildfire risk.”
What’s happening to offshore wind should be a cautionary tale for developers considering whether sinking time and money into community relations is really worth it: Last year, coastal fishermen and beach town mayors in New Jersey joined forces with fossil fuel funding and right-wing agitators to foment a conspiracy-infused campaign against offshore wind that has truly rattled the future of the industry.
Part of that offshore wind backlash grew out of New Jersey Republicans in Congress using the pulpit of their offices and filing amendments to legislation. As Garcia takes up Acton’s cause, I do wonder whether battery energy storage might be next. November’s election makes it less likely his language hindering expedited approvals for BESS projects will make it into the final funding bill, and Garcia’s office did not respond to requests to discuss its prospects.
But regardless, it’s an ember that could become a fire of its own.
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The cloak-and-dagger approach is turning the business into a bogeyman.
It’s time to call it like it is: Many data center developers seem to be moving too fast to build trust in the communities where they’re siting projects.
One of the chief complaints raised by data center opponents across the country is that companies aren’t transparent about their plans, which often becomes the original sin that makes winning debates over energy or water use near-impossible. In too many cases, towns and cities neighboring a proposed data center won’t know who will wind up using the project, either because a tech giant is behind it and keeping plans secret or a real estate firm refuses to disclose to them which company it’ll be sold to.
Making matters worse, developers large and small are requiring city and county officials to be tight-lipped through non-disclosure agreements. It’s safe to say these secrecy contracts betray a basic sense of public transparency Americans expect from their elected representatives and they become a core problem that lets activists critical of the data center boom fill in gaps for the public. I mean, why trust facts and figures about energy and water if the corporations won’t be up front about their plans?
“When a developer comes in and there’s going to be a project that has a huge impact on a community and the environment – a place they call home – and you’re not getting any kind of answers, you can tell they’re not being transparent with you,” Ginny Marcille-Kerslake, an organizer for Food and Water Watch in Pennsylvania, told me in an interview this week. “There’s an automatic lack of trust there. And then that extends to their own government.”
Let’s break down an example Marcille-Kerslake pointed me to, where Talen Energy is seeking to rezone hundreds of acres of agricultural land in Montour County, Pennsylvania, for industrial facilities. Montour County is already a high risk area for any kind of energy or data center development, ranking in the 86th percentile nationally for withdrawn renewable energy projects (more than 10 solar facilities have been canceled here for various reasons). So it didn’t help when individuals living in the area began questioning if this was for Amazon Web Services, similar to other nearby Talen-powered data center projects in the area?
Officials wouldn’t – or couldn’t – say if the project was for Amazon, in part because one of the county commissioners signed a non-disclosure agreement binding them to silence. Subsequently, a Facebook video from an activist fighting the rezoning went viral, using emails he claimed were obtained through public records requests to declare Amazon “is likely behind the scenes” of the zoning request.
Amazon did not respond to my requests for comment. But this is a very familiar pattern to us now. Heatmap Pro data shows that a lack of transparency consistently ranks in the top five concerns people raise when they oppose data center projects, regardless of whether they are approved or canceled. Heatmap researcher Charlie Clynes explained to me that the issue routinely crops up in the myriad projects he’s tracked, down to the first data center ever logged into the platform – a $100 million proposal by a startup in Hood County, Oregon, that was pulled after a community uproar.
“At a high level, I have seen a lack of transparency become more of an issue. It makes people angry in a very unique way that other issues don’t. Not only will they think a project is going to be bad for a community, but you’re not even telling them, the key stakeholder, what is going on,” Clynes said. “It’s not a matter of, are data centers good or bad necessarily, but whether people feel like they’re being heard and considered. And transparency issues make that much more difficult.”
My interview with Marcille-Kerslake exemplified this situation. Her organization is opposed to the current rapid pace of data center build-out and is supporting opposition in various localities. When we spoke, her arguments felt archetypal and representative of how easily those who fight projects can turn secrecy into a cudgel. After addressing the trust issues with me, she immediately pivoted to saying that those exist because “at the root of it, this lack of transparency to the community” comes from “the fact that what they have planned, people don’t want.”
“The answer isn’t for these developers to come in and be fully transparent in what they want to do, which is what you’d see with other kinds of developments in your community. That doesn’t help them because what they’re building is not wanted.”
I’m not entirely convinced by her point, that the only reason data center developers are staying quiet is because of a likelihood of community opposition. In fairness, the tech sector has long operated with a “move fast, break things” approach, and Silicon Valley companies long worked in privacy in order to closely guard trade secrets in a competitive marketplace. I also know from my previous reporting that before AI, data center developers were simply focused on building projects with easy access to cheap energy.
However, in fairness to opponents, I’m also not convinced the industry is adequately addressing its trust deficit with the public. Last week, I asked Data Center Coalition vice president of state policy Dan Diorio if there was a set of “best practices” that his large data center trade organization is pointing to for community relations and transparency. His answer? People are certainly trying their best as they move quickly to build out infrastructure for AI, but no, there is no standard for such a thing.
“Each developer is different. Each company is different. There’s different sizes, different structures,” he said. “There’s common themes of open and public meetings, sharing information about water use in particular, helping put it in the proper context as well.”
He added: “I wouldn’t categorize that as industry best practice, [but] I think you’re seeing common themes emerge in developments around the country.”
Plus more of the week’s biggest renewable energy fights.
Cole County, Missouri – The Show Me State may be on the precipice of enacting the first state-wide solar moratorium.
Clark County, Ohio – This county has now voted to oppose Invenergy’s Sloopy Solar facility, passing a resolution of disapproval that usually has at least some influence over state regulator decision-making.
Millard County, Utah – Here we have a case of folks upset about solar projects specifically tied to large data centers.
Orange County, California – Compass Energy’s large battery project in San Juan Capistrano has finally died after a yearslong bout with local opposition.
Hillsdale County, Michigan – Here’s a new one: Two county commissioners here are stepping back from any decision on a solar project because they have signed agreements with the developer.
A conversation with Save Our Susquehanna’s Sandy Field.
This week’s conversation is with Sandy Field, leader of the rural Pennsylvania conservation organization Save Our Susquehanna. Field is a climate activist and anti-fossil fuel advocate who has been honored by former vice president Al Gore. Until recently, her primary focus was opposing fracking and plastics manufacturing in her community, which abuts the Susquehanna River. Her focus has shifted lately, however, to the boom in data center development.
I reached out to Field because I’ve been quite interested in better understanding how data centers may be seen by climate-conscious conservation advocates. Our conversation led me to a crucial conclusion: Areas with historic energy development are rife with opposition to new tech infrastructure. It will require legwork for data centers – or renewable energy projects, for that matter – to ever win support in places still reeling from legacies of petroleum pollution.
The following conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.
Given your background, tell me about how you wound up focusing on data centers?
We won a fight against a gas plant in fall of 2023. We started saying, Instead of focusing on what we don’t want, we’re going to start focusing on what we do want. We were focusing on supporting recreational projects in our area, because this is an area where people come to hike and camp and fish. It’s a great place to ride your bike.
Then, all of the sudden, people were saying, What about these data centers?
At first, it seemed benign. It’s like a warehouse, who cares? But we started to learn about the water use concerns, the energy use concerns. We learned about the Amazon one that’s connected to Three Mile Island, which is responsible for turning it back on. We learned about one in Homer, Pennsylvania, where they’re taking a former coal plant and converting it into the largest gas plant in the country in order to power a data center. The people in that area are going to get the pollution from the enormous power plant but none of the power. It started to be clear to us that, again, behind these projects is a push to build out more fracking and gas in Pennsylvania.
From a climate change point of view, this is exactly the wrong perspective. We’re running in the wrong direction. Between water usage, and this energy usage, people are becoming alarmed that the burden will be on us and data centers will be just another boondoggle.
The last thing I’ll say is that there is nothing right now in American politics that is reaching across the aisle. Our communities are coming together. Everybody – Democrats, Republicans – to fight these things.
This is also the only thing I’ve ever worked on that people hate more than plastics.
It sounds like how you learned about these projects was, it began as an anodyne issue but you began to hear about impacts on water and energy use. When I talk to people in the development space, some will call anybody who opposes development NIMBYs. But I’m feeling like this is an oversimplification of the problem here. If you had to identify a principle reason so many people are opposing data centers, what would be the big overarching motive?
I think it seems rushed. People are concerned because it's like a gold rush.
A gas-fired power plant takes five years to build. They’re talking about data centers right now. Where is that power coming from? The whole thing feels like a bubble, and we’re concerned that people are going to invest into communities, and communities will be accepting them only to be left with stranded assets.
When I hear you bring up the principle reason being speed, I hear you. Power plants take years. Mines take years. So do renewable energy projects. Help me get a better understanding though, how much of this is purely the speed –
They’re taking people by surprise.
Take into account where we are. We live by the Susquehanna River, the longest non-navigable river in the world. It doesn’t have a lot of industry on it because it’s too shallow, but we drink from the river and we’ve just gotten it clean. The river was so low this past year that historic structures were beginning to be visible that I’ve never seen, the entire time I have lived here. That was because of a drought.
Now, add to that a couple of data centers pulling millions of gallons of water a day and only putting a portion back in, with who knows what in there. People here are saying that back in the day this river was filled with coal dust, and then we had fracking, so its… enough is enough. Let’s put something into rural communities that will actually benefit us.
The small townships [deciding] don’t know enough about data centers to plan for them. So we’re trying to make sure they’re prepared for managing them. We go to these townships being approached and encourage them to have a protective ordinance that allows them to define parameters for these things. Setbacks, water use rules, things like that.
To your point about NIMBYs – there are a few around here who really are. But there are others who really do just have concerns about how this is a bad idea and we’re rushing in a direction we don’t want to go for our state. They felt this way about fracking, about advanced plastics recycling too, for example. It wasn’t that people didn’t want the projects in their backyards – it’s that they didn’t want them anywhere. Labeling us as NIMBYs or whiners or gripers is unfair.
On that note, I can’t help but notice that these efforts to get protective ordinances on data centers are happening as opponents of renewable energy are doing the same thing. Are you at all concerned that this increased scrutiny towards land use will lead to greater restrictions on renewables alongside data centers?
You’re right that a lot of this is about land use and there are similar arguments about renewable energy. Some of these arguments are being fed by the fossil fuel industry and its allies, and a lot of it is baseless. They’re feeding in concerns about glare and noise and whatever else that don’t even really exist about solar panels.
But it is, yes, often the same people talking about protecting their land. It does have similar elements, especially because of the agricultural land use being proposed in many cases.
We need to meet the concerns about renewable energy head-on. If you talk to people and show them a picture of solar panels with sheep grazing underneath and the land can be conserved for many years, this starts to be a different argument than building a data center for Amazon or someone else that people don’t even like, using the water and all that.